


Proud

by thebearking



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, trans reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebearking/pseuds/thebearking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You and Steve attend your first pride parade together. In which Steve and the reader are both trans men.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Proud

**Author's Note:**

> written for my friend henry who recently got his top surgery and is the light of my life. ash is a self-insert oc, aka me. heck yeah i wrote myself dating bucky. who wouldn't?

“Alright, hand me the pink paint.”

“Oh, c’mon, it’s right there on the table. Can’t you reach it?”

“Sass me again and this trans flag will remain unfinished. You wanna go out there with the flag of the Polish Roman Catholic Church on your cheek?”

“No, I—Wait, how do you even know that?”

“The pink, Steven.”

“Fine.” Muttering something dark under his breath, your ever-helpful boyfriend reached over to grab the pink-dipped paintbrush and hand it to you.

“Thank you, Stevie,” you sang, going to town on the pink stripe. “Keep frowning and it’ll look even worse. Think about all the fun we’ll have.”

That brought a lopsided smile to Steve’s face. “I suppose you’re right,” he murmured, watching you with soft blue eyes. The coolness of the paintbrush on his skin was refreshing in the muggy atmosphere of your shared Brooklyn apartment. “You know, you’re getting pretty good at this. Ever considered painting lessons?”

“If I’m already getting good, why would I need lessons?” You dipped the brush in more paint, gripping Steve’s face in your other hand as you daubed another layer. “Will your BFF be making an appearance after all?”

Steve nodded slightly, not wanting to disturb your hard work. “He and Ash should be there right before the parade begins.” He chuckled softly; it was music to your ears. “Never thought I’d see Buck or even Ash decked out in such bright tones of pink, blue, and yellow.”

You hummed, the corner of your mouth quirking into a grin. “If you knew Ash like I do, you wouldn’t be surprised. Alright, all done!” You placed the brush back on the table, sitting back on your own barstool expectantly. “My turn. I expect your best, Mr. Art Major.”

Steve rolled his eyes and checked himself out in the mirror on the table. “Nice work, babe. I’m proud.” He took the white brush from the table. “Sit still.”

You sat straight with your shoulders back, watching Steve from the corner of your eye. “Trust me, I’ve sat in makeup chairs for hours. This is nothing. Take your time; we have a good hour to go before the parade.”

“Ah, but then there’s the trouble of finding our friends,” Steve quipped, clicking his tongue in faux disapproval. “You think it’ll be easy finding those two?”

“Just look for a ’fro. What color was it in the pic Ash posted?”

“Fuchsia.”

“Hell _yes_.”

Steve finished both flags in fifteen minutes, and you washed the brushes in the sink while he returned his paints to his studio. The two of you were matching, with a pink, white, and blue flag painted on each cheek. A week ago, Steve, being the little ball of rage that he was, had ambitiously declared that he would attend the parade with the flag painted over his entire face, but the amount of paint and the amount of scrubbing afterward seemed less ideal. Steve looked downright adorable in his baby blue polo, pink bowtie, and white suspenders. You felt just as stylish in a similar outfit, but with a pink polo and baby blue bowtie to match Steve’s look. With your hair dyed pastel pink and Steve’s fingernails lacquered with pink, blue, and white stripes, the two of you could quite literally be the most coordinated couple at the parade, especially with the “#TransIsBeautiful” buttons fastened to your shirts.

“Ready?” Steve asked, holding a hand out to you as he opened the door.

You grinned, taking time to process the moment. This would be your first pride, as well as Steve’s. A week ago, spending your first pride with your boyfriend had sounded like a dream, and here it was, a part of reality.

“Let’s go,” you said finally, taking Steve’s hand.

* * *

Finding Bucky and Ash was not as difficult as you two had foreseen. You and Steve arrived at the parade ten minutes later and spotted Ash’s vibrant fuchsia hair by a food truck within the first five minutes of searching. The parade had begun by the time you had all reunited. Bucky’s eyelids were painted bright blue. Ash tackled you in a hug, practically smothering you with her gravity-defying afro. It was a good way to go.

“Took you two long enough!” Bucky exclaimed over the hustle and bustle of the procession. He pulled Steve into a hug, then you, clapping you on the back. “I thought I’d have to go and get you two myself but I didn’t wanna walk in on anything I wouldn’t be able to unsee.”

“I will throw my dick at you, Buck. You know I will.”

Bucky surrendered instantly, knowing that Steve meant every word of that threat. “I believe you, Steve-o. No need to get feisty.” You were snickering at Bucky’s immediate defensiveness, and Bucky pointed a finger at you accusatorially. “Don’t encourage him.”

You scoffed, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulders and smooching the top of his head loudly. “Who do you think gave him the idea?” you told Bucky.

Now Ash was snickering. Bucky turned to pinch her cheek, drawing a squeak of protest out of her. “You three are too sassy for your own good,” he sighed. “You’re gonna give me gray hairs.”

“I always said you’d be a silver fox, baby,” Ash cooed, wrapping her arms and squeezing him to her. “And besides, sass’ll keep you young.” Her eyes brightened suddenly as she looked over Bucky’s shoulder. “C’mon, let’s join in the fun!” Without waiting for a reply, she hopped over the fence and melted into the crowd.

Bucky’s face went pale. “Sweetheart, we’re supposed to be _watching!”_  He flashed you and Steve an apologetic look, then crawled over the railing and ran after Ash, calling out after her.

You chuckled, watching as the fuchsia ’fro vanished from view, Bucky trailing close behind. You looked over at Steve, who had a twinkle in his eye that you knew all too well. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Do _not_ ,” you said, wearing a halfhearted warning look.

Steve pouted up at you. “C’mon, babe, when’s the next time we’re gonna be able to do this?” he whined. “A whole year! Who knows where we’ll be by then?”

You frowned. “Together, obviously.” You looked over at the parade. Everyone looked so happy and so free. A queer couple of color roller-bladed past you, arm in arm, both clad in rainbow-striped socks. A tall, beefy tower of a man clad in a tutu, tights, and heart-shaped pasties winked at you and showered both you and Steve in multicolored glitter. You sighed. “Alright, let’s go.”

Steve beamed and threw his arms around your neck, pulling you in for a kiss. You smiled against his lips, holding him against you with one hand on his hip. When he pulled away, he was still beaming. He made way for the railing, struggling for a moment to drag himself over the top of it. He landed awkwardly on his feet, swaying for a moment before he caught his balance. His eyes were bluer than ever and his cheeks were bright red; if he had an asthma attack right here, right now, you knew he’d regret nothing. “C’mon, babe! Let’s go!” he shouted when you still hadn’t moved to follow him.

You hopped over the railing to join Steve. You took his hand in yours, your fingers intertwined. You brushed his blue-streaked bangs from his forehead, chuckling when you managed to streak more glitter across his face. “Lead the way,” you said.

Steve grinned and took off with you in tow. He was dragging you to who know’s where, and you had never been happier. Steve looked so excited, shrieking like a banshee as he weaved through the procession. Somehow you could hear his eager whoops and battle cries above the delighted shouts of the people around you. You didn’t know whether to laugh or to yell or to cry.

So you went with all three.


End file.
